Over the course of this blog I have mentioned many heroes that I have admired over the years. Heroes that I would like to aspire to due to the qualities they possess. Spider-man would be the most obvious superhero I’ve talked about. I loved the character as a kid. I read the comics, I watched the cartoon Spider-man and his amazing friends and the later 90’s cartoon. Along with the X-Men, they were the heroes for my young self and for a while I was more Marvel then DC.
In all honesty I’ve never really considered myself a Batman fan. I can’t recall reading any of the comics or watching the cartoons although I did use to watch repeats of the old 60’s series. I also remember going to watch Batman at the local cinema in 1989 and although I watched the four prequels I didn’t think they were that good. A couple of years ago I decided on a re watch of the films as I had them on DVD. I watched the first, fell asleep half way through the second and never went back. When the reboot came out I wasn’t that enthralled and it was a while before I watched both Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. I have never watched the third movie. Likewise although I thought Ben Affleck did a good enough job in Batman vs Superman I wasn’t a fan and still haven’t watched Justice League. I got through two series of Gotham before, due to Channel Five dropping it from their schedules, giving up and although I may go back to it sometime in the future I found it very dark and also long winded. Likewise apart from the more common elements associated with the character I know very little of the long history of the hero.
And yet thinking about it tonight I find Batman merchandise is the second most numerous items I own. (Of course number one is Doctor Who merchandise, if there was any doubt).
I have an action figure, a number of t-shirts which I wear more often than other items of clothing. A Batman floor mat and a large picture of the various Bat symbols over the years (presents from my Brother and family) and the Arkham series of games for the PlayStation. Recently I’ve just brought a pair of Batman earrings which I’m actually wearing right now along with a Bat symbol t-shirt. As such I’ve started to take more of an interest in the character recently watching the Killing Joke and Gotham by Moonlight.
So what is it about this character that has such a hold on me despite my lack of interest in his films or comics? Well there is the bat symbol. Like Doctor Who’s Tardis it is instantly recognisable and in fact the symbol is even used to call Batman to action lighting up the skies of Gotham. True much of what I own is dominated by that symbol but not everything and the image of Batman himself looks cool. I would rally love a change to wear a Batman costume to a costume party or something because it looks so good.
What we have with Batman, and I’ve mentioned this before (see Secret Identities – Not just for superheroes), is a hero who hasn’t got superpowers. He is a hero who has worked to become a hero through learning martial arts and science and of course developing great detecting skills being dubbed the world’s greatest detective. There is something appealing about a vigilante who takes on criminals just using the skills he’s learnt and not some power he has endowed with.
This is in some way the reason I like Arrow apart from his skill with a bow. I came to Arrow through watching the Flash and I think that season one is one of the best. It has Oliver Queen just going up against criminals’ way before Meta humans, magicians, aliens or alternate Earth Nazi’s. There was a sense of realism to this first series. Rather like Hawkeye in the Avengers when we see Green Arrow up against a super villain their skills seems rather lightweight compared to speedsters, ancient Gods and magic users.
Batman as well I think works better when against ordinary villains such as the Joker, Riddler and Ra Al Ghul. Put him with super beings too often and he can seem the weakest link although there are some interesting stories that explores those themes.
I also love looking at the philosophy and psychology behind the character himself. We all know the tragedy that led him to take up the mantle of crime fighter but there is also how that affects him until it is unclear whether he is truly Bruce Wayne or Batman. It reminds me of a quote I used for my own novel. Perhaps it’s impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be. While I was writing my novel and working on the themes of identity it was the complexity of Batman that was in the back of my mind.
So what we get is a very dark complex character (well if you ignore the 60’s series that is) who still doesn’t cross that line where he would intentionally kill a villain. Whether he is seen as a vigilante hiding from the police or on call whenever they need him, he has one mission and that is to help save his city. Despite any psychological issues that he has, despite any limitations he is a person who is ready to step up to the fight when needed. He may not be a role model to me but it seems there are still some things that I can take from the character.
It’s quarter past twelve on Saturday night. 03/06/18 to be precise and I’ve just got in. All in all in’s been a hell of a night. It’s not a post I was planning to blog and it’s thrown my schedule out a little. It should have been a Batman themed one with a blog on how I’ve joined a new mediumship circle to be the next one I wrote. But this night has prompted an unscheduled piece. One which I think needs to be posted sooner more than later but also ties in with my previous post on Ace Rimmer.
I’ve been out on the town. It’s my friends eighteenth and she’s invited me out. It’s a night I’ve been looking forward to although she and her boyfriend are the only ones I will know. Flashback to earlier in the evening when I’m getting ready to go out. Baring this month pride month. I’ve already ordered some rainbow laces. Yet I hesitate on getting ready. Do I wear earrings? Do I dress on the more slightly feminine side or more manly? In the back of my head is the question will I get the chance to pull? It’s not a question of worrying what people will think of me but more an issue of if it will effect any chances tonight.
I’ve had a quick tidy up around the flat today and hidden the more questionable items of my personality away. You never know.
The night goes well. A couple of pints followed by many cocktails. I feel relaxed around the people I don’t know, my friend’s family and friends. Her mum even offers me a drink, a thanks for looking out for her daughter. I guess I’ve been mentioned before.
But something happens towards the middle of the night. It’s about ten and we’ve been out a few hours. There are some attractive women out tonight, one of the group is lined up nicely with another. I’m slightly jealous, yeah I want them to get together but I feel left out. My friend is constantly kissing her boyfriend. And the girl serving behind the bar I find attractive but she is too young.
But in my slightly intoxicated state I realise something. A fact. I’m going home alone tonight. It’s likely I’m going wake up in the morning alone and feel depressed about it. The girls around me are too young for me and I know my time out on a scene like this has come to an end. Tonight is almost like a flashback, a reunion. It’s like when Doctor Who has an anniversary special and old Doctors come back. They’re older, their time has come and gone and although it’s a nice nostalgic trip it’s a one off remembrance of the old days. I remember past days of glory when I’d be out on a Friday and Saturday night until the early hours of the morning nightclubbing it away.
Ok I feel slightly depressed about this. For a moment I want to go home and call it a night. But on the other hand there is something liberating about it. I know I’m going to be going home alone. Although I’ve seen girls that have peeked my interest I know any chance with them are non-existent. There’s no expectation for me tonight. I can go with the flow and not worry about what I say or do. It’s not a totally great feeling. I would still love to hold someone close to me, to have someone kiss me, those strings of passion whether or not they actually leads somewhere. Even the scary possibility that I’d wake up next to someone I hardly know in the morning but knowing it had followed a night of sex. It’s not so much I’m passed it but the fact that for me this isn’t a scene where someone like me is going to connect with someone else any more.
Luckily I stick around. Maybe it was just the drink effecting me, maybe I just decide to go with the flow but more than anything it’s because this is my friends night and she wants me there and by the state of her she needs me there. She’s reached that state!! You know the one where the drink is making her tearful and regretful. Where she thinks she is a bad person and people hate her. I remind her that she is great and I remind her how she has been a great friends that has always stood by me, supported me. She wants to read my novel as soon as I can print it off. She is the one that encouraged me to get my hair dyed red. Have I mentioned I’ve had my hair dyed red? Most people despite a bit of banter have been ok with it, only Friday night did a couple of people go over the top with taking the piss about it. But my friend she has been there for me and as I quietly tell her all this she hugs me and rather more loudly then I would like mentions how great my hair is and how if I want to paint my nails and wear makeup then fuck what anyone else says. Yeah thanks M***. But in all seriousness it makes me feel better for who I am.
It’s gone eleven and the group is now leaving. Her friends and family have lifts home. Her boyfriend and I grab food from the kabab shop and between us we manage to walk her home. Leaving them I walk back home eating my burger. I live in town. I could have got my food and been home within two minutes but I get my friends safely home. It’s something I have always done. Another flashback to fifteen years ago when I’d be out with my female friends, (I also used to be with female friends more than male ones. Maybe that was a sign) making sure they got home safe before I headed back, usually alone to my own flat. I guess somethings don’t chance, just people. I feel better about myself because A. I’ve only had a simple burger without chips and not a large pizza or something as I’m on a diet and B. I’ve celebrated my friends eighteenth and I’ve got her home safe. I’m thought of by people as someone who looks out for people. Maybe someone went home tonight thinking ‘what a guy ‘about me. Although given some of the comments I got tonight they might also have thought ‘what a girl’. It doesn’t matter. The depression I’m starting to feel now and will hit me forcefully in the morning will also pass and I hope that I’ll remind myself that despite my problems I’m a good friend and that I have good friends out there that also look out for me. And hopefully I’ll also forget that I resolved that this was my last swan song out drinking around town next time the opportunity comes up to go out.
Oh god. It’s five thirty in the morning. I’m wide awake with a cup of tea and no hangover. No surprise there, I never get them and for some reason I always wake up early although this is sooner than even I expected. But there is something different. I’m not here cringing at anything I said or did last night, which given that my anxiety usually makes me question any social interaction is rather nice. There’s no bitter disappointment that I came home alone. Sure it would have been nice after a year and a half but never mind. I already have enough on my plate. No all I have is memories of a great night out and the knowledge that I’ll have the opportunity to take the piss out of my friend sometime in the near future.
For those who don’t know Arnold Judas Rimmer is a character from the show Red Dwarf. In the first episode he is killed in the same explosion that kills all the rest of the crew, bar one, but is brought back as a hologram.
The character of Rimmer, played by Chris Barrie, is as fellow crew member Dave Lister puts it a “you’re a gutless, spineless, gormless, direction-less, neurotic, underachieving, sniveling, cowardly pile of smeg. No offence, but get real, man; most eunuchs have got more balls than you.” A physical coward blaming his upbringing for the way he is.
But sometimes little things will break though that show he does have the potential to be a better person. He comes up with a plan that saves the crew at the end of series ten and he sacrifices his chance at a new life in order to save a woman he has just met even if he can’t believe it himself.
But never is it clearer what his potential could have been then with the appearance of Ace Rimmer, an Arnold Rimmer from another dimension. Brave, charismatic, smart and all round magnificent guy. And this Rimmer is so different due to one decision made in the past. Ace due to the embarrassment of being kept back a year ends up buckling down and fighting back to become the guy he is. This ties into my blog on being me about how different I myself may have been if something in my past changed and how it is our past that makes us who we are.
When Ace Rimmer first appeared on our screen I loved the character. After all who wouldn’t want to be like this guy? It’s not until a recent re-watch of Dimension Jump that brought back to my mind how I would have liked to have been like him and slight feelings of regret that I hadn’t. But like I’ve done with the heroes I’ve mentioned so far I looked deeper into the character. He’s smart but that’s because he’s studied. He’s brave because he’ll do what’s needed without thought for himself, putting others first. And he’s modest with his achievements bestowing praise on the people around him while playing down any credit to himself.
Well I can say that over my life I’ve studied. I’ve gone to college and university. And even away from them I’ve looked into things that interest me. My job at the moment isn’t exactly the ideal job but I spend my time learning everything I can about it. Five years ago I couldn’t imagine being the kind of person stuck inside a generator trying to work out how to fix it but that’s what I do. I may not be saving universes but I’m doing my best to get units ready to go out on hire. Ok I may be replaceable but I am still a valued member of the team.
And I’m one of those who also put others first no matter if it’s an inconvenience to me. Late night pickups, dropping everything at the drop of a hat to go out and help someone out. As for the modest bit, well that might be something I do have to work on.
So maybe I’m not so far removed from Ace Rimmer as I first thought. Ok I might not have the handsome dashing looks and sex appeal unfortunately but the basic character traits are there in some form. To look at the difference between the two Rimmers we can see what happens when one spends time simply blaming people and circumstances for the way they are but failing to do anything about it and when one sets out to be the best they can be. And the potential is always there.
Ace returns in to later episodes. Briefly when Arnold Rimmer gets all his bitterness and resentment sucked from him he ends up as Ace showing that it really is a case of overcoming the bad habits of a lifetime to achieve your potential.
In his final appearance Ace returns wounded. Not the original Ace but another one who has took on the mantle after the original Ace had been killed. He wants Arnold Rimmer to take over, to become the new Ace. Something which Rimmer believes himself to be incapable of but in the end, after some false starts he goes out into the universe to try his best.
It’s never too late to try and be the best person you can. To learn what is holding you back and overcoming it. Standing up when needed instead of running for the nearest escape pod. To be there for people when needed. To unleash the wild power that lurks inside you. To be the cougar running free and unfettered through the mountains.
It’s funny what pops into your mind on a drive home. I began to think about what makes me ME. What set it off was thinking about an episode of Doctor Who. Heaven Sent (2015) In this episode regarded by many fans as one of the best of Capidi’s run the Doctor finds himself in a strange castle, works out how to escape but is killed before he is able to. Luckily he is able to survive longer to reset the teleportation device that brought him there before dying thus allowing another copy of himself to arrive in the castle and have to start again eventually (after billions of years) breaking down a wall and escaping. One of the things that was discussed on the Gallifrey Base forum following this episode was the question of the Doctor’s age (A subject that has been debated over many years) Did this now mean the Doctor was now billions of years old or was the Doctor that finally escaped just a couple of days older then he was in the previous episode having been reset by the transporter.
The whole thing raises the question of whether this is really still the Doctor, the original or just a copy with all the memories of the original that first died in the castle. And what about all the times before hand when the Doctor has used teleporters. Is the person that comes out the other end the ‘same’ person that went in? What about all those Starfleet officers from Star Trek. Did the original Captain Kirk simply disappear into nothing and get replaced by an exact copy. One of the Bernice Summerfield novels (a Doctor Who spin off) Down deals with this issue having one character scared of any kind of transport believe it will be the end of the real her.
So all this was going on in my head leading me off on other thoughts. One of the questions I’ve seen many times on the Empty Closets forum is how do I know if I’m trans? With one answer being if you could change into your ideal body of the opposites sex would you do it? My answer has most of the time been yes I would. But then I have issues with my body anyway so why wouldn’t I jump at the chance to be placed into another body if it’s how I would ideally see myself as female. For the record we are probably talking Renée Felice Smith or Caity Lotz or Michelle Hendley. If this magical device was around of course I’d use it.
But the point that sticks in my mind when imagining this scenario is that if it was somehow possible to change my body or be placed into a body that was female then would it not also be possible to be place in the ideal male body. And again yes given the choice I would swop bodies for one that looked like Stephen Amell or Tom Ellis.
And the point that crossed my mind was if I was able to do any of this would I still be ME. Because I am made up of my experiences and act accordingly. If I suddenly was more confident in my looks would my attitude change? Would I do things I normal wouldn’t? Is what makes me who I am simply my thoughts, my soul or is also connected to the body I inhabit?
Let’s look at the scenario of this girl I like. One of the things holding me back is my insecurity about my looks. Would see go for someone like me. Am I too old looking? Not hunky enough? Wrong colour hair? Fairly shallow stuff but its true many people go for people they find attractive. (I know it’s not always about looks) If I looked like Tom Ellis would I feel more confident at asking her out and also would I actually be more successful in this new body? And if I looked like Caity Lotz would I have less chance then I do now being the same sex. Would I even bother trying or just end up being a ‘girl’ friend hanging around with her. Already we can see that changing bodies would make me act differently than the Me sitting here right now.
Another scenario that has always kicked around in my head is what would it be like if I suddenly found myself leaping back into my body of when I was say fourteen, back at school but with all the memories I had built up over the years? Would I change how I did things back then? Of course I bloody would. Johnny Hates Jazz had a song called Turn Back the Clock. While it sums up about how I feel about getting older the lines about not wanting to change a single day can go right out the window. I probably had even less confidence as a teenager then I do now. If I knew what I know now of course I would use it to my advantage. I could retry to do all those things I never did and regret missing out on. I could change my career path, join the police force like I wanted to.
But then once again that would change the person I am now. I have been shaped by the people and events of my life. Would I really make changes to my life if it meant that I never met some of the people that had meant so much to me over the years? Sure some of those people have brought me heartache and taken me to the darkest times in my life but there are many memories there. Precious ones. And which changes would I make? Ones that made me more popular with girls, a better career. Or maybe I would have started transitioning at an early age. Now that would be a life changing direction.
Either way none of those people, for better or worse, would be the same person that is sitting here now in a café typing out these words. I am unique just like everyone else in the world. The Doctor once said, “A man is the sum of his memories.” I guess that’s what makes me, ME.
It is the twenty first century. Even in the short time I have been on the planet technology has moved so fast. Televisions, Computers, mobile phones. I’ve nothing against them. I love my laptop. For ages I had a simple mobile phone simply for calls and texting before getting one that had internet and I couldn’t go back now to a basic. As for TV. When I was a kind my uncle gave me his old black and white small television to have in my room. Now the TV in front of me is a 32in flat screen connected to the net. I have Sky, Netflix, Amazon Prime and You Tube at the push of a button. The computer I had as a kid was a Commodore 64. You had to plug a tape player to it to load the game. Waiting for ten minutes while it loaded to a screen of flickering coloured lines hoping that it would load correctly and not just reach the end of the tape and switch off. Now a game can be loaded instantly or played online.
Even in just the last ten years things have changed so much. Doctor Who came back and I use to have to make sure I was home to watch it even though I would record it on VHS tape. These days my Sky box is set up to record it and even though I have the DVDs most of the series is available to watch on my screen at any time. It’s very easy these days to catch up with your favourite shows and I have quite a few. This is a list of the programmes I’m watching at the moment. NCIS, NCIS Los Angeles (currently waiting to catch up from season 4 onwards) MacGyver, Hawaii Five-0, Bull, Lucifer, Supergirl, The Flash, Legends of Tomorrow, Arrow and currently on season four of Gold Rush and just started watching Blindspot. Not only that but Elementary season five starts this month. That is thirteen hours of television!! (and that’s if I only watch one episode of Blindspot, Gold Rush and Los Angeles a week)
This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. They usually take a break over Christmas and the programmes for the majority show over the winter season when it’s too wet and cold to go outside anyway but still I finds myself simply sat watching TV then feeling bad as I haven’t done anything around the house, or no writing, no more learning on the guitar or simply just reading my book. Towards the end of the running seasons I start working out how many episodes are left, how many more weeks until I get some of my free time back. Yes I know I could simply stop watching or cut down but to be honest I love these shows, I’m connected to the characters. And I can’t argue about how useful internet technology is. You Tube is helping me learn guitar, there are various writing forums and website out there where I can get tips and feedback.
In the old days things weren’t too bad. Adverts were annoying but at least during that time I could nip out and do bits in the five minutes break. Now most of the time I’m able to forward through them. I have to physically make time to go and do stuff. Yesterday was quite nice in that I didn’t turn my TV on until about eight in the evening.
It is the same when I go walking. True I enjoy listening to music but once in a while I will take out the headphones and stop and just listen to the world around me and apart from using it to tell the time my phone stays in my pocket. Phones these days have become almost attached to our hands, I’m just as guilty checking Facebook or the LGTB forum, playing Criminal Case or Song Pop. I do however generally keep the phone in my pocket most of the time I’m out and about. Last Friday at work I had to pop out. In one part of town I had one woman pushing a pram with one hand whilst using her phone in the other while she crossed a busy road. Later when I actually wanted to take a turning to the store a cyclist riding on the pavement while speaking on his mobile shot across the turning without even realising I was there. People today are so focused with their phone they fail to take in the things around them.
Many people think we have to much technology and thus we just waste away our precious time while others think that we live in a marvellous age and technology is the best thing around. I think the answer is somewhere in between. It’s like desserts. I love desserts, I always get a craving in the evenings for something sweet but I have an ever-growing waist so I’m mindful of how much I eat. I think it’s the same for technology. It’s good, very good but it is better in moderation. I try now to watch one of my programmes then take time to do something before watching something else. I’d rather be out doing stuff on my Saturday and use my Sunday for relaxing in front of the TV. But boy I really need to get out and do more.
So the aforementioned walk. It’s a gorgeous sunny Saturday. And one of the things that crosses my mind is that it feels like a Saturday and that I wished that I had got up earlier in the day. I wanted to do some tidying before going to do some writing. I wanted to do something. But what.
I begin to think back on my childhood. Saturdays to me was always a day that felt like it was made for adventure. Friday night I always seemed to stay at my Nan’s so Saturday morning I would be up. Watch cartoons and Going Live whilst eating an Animal bar and having a hot chocolate (I never drank Tea until much later in life) before going out to play with my friends. Later in life Saturday meant meeting up with my mate Nick and might involve a shopping trip to the city or washing his car. Even as an adult Saturdays were spent hanging out with friends, weather off doing something or just relaxing. Ut that’s my Saturday and more than once over the years I’ve wondered how others spend their Saturdays. I use to see strangers in their gardens or through the window into their houses and I’d get a brief flash of imagining what their life was like. Weather I was ever right I’d never know. I also remember a girl I worked with and thinking how does she and her husband spend their Saturday. What do they get up and do.
You see I have this notion in my head of what a Saturday should be like. I think it’s getting up and putting the TV on. Maybe the music channels to listen to whilst having a morning cuppa and maybe doing bits around the house. Perhaps it’s relaxing with a book on the sofa. Or just sat watching movies on TV and preparing lunch. What is this idyllic lifestyle I’m dreaming of? AS I walk I see people out cutting their grass. Ah now there’s a memory. A strong one, a favourite one from my childhood, my dad cutting the grass, the sound of the mower, over head the sound of a propeller plane or helicopter. The smell of the cut grass in the heat of summer. The smell of petrol. The feel of heat on my skin and the feeling of happiness and carefree. It is a moment I think of whenever I hear the sound of propellers faintly in the sky or the sound of a mower or the smell of cut grass.
Saturday to me is for relaxing after a week of work but also doing something. Work on the car or pottering in the garden. Going out shopping somewhere or maybe cutting the grass and having a BBQ. Maybe it’s out playing football. I just know that with so few Saturdays in our life they should be lived to the full and enjoyed.
But what about Sundays. Sundays are also part of the weekend but somehow they feel different. True all those things I’ve mentioned above could be done on a Sunday. Indeed I plan on cutting my grass tomorrow. But for me Sunday has always got Monday looming over it. It’s back to work the next day. No staying up late. Sunday is a day for relaxing. Not doing anything. Maybe a pint or two in the local. That’s what my childhood always thinks of. Going down he local football club on a Sunday morning. My Mum would be working behind the bar and my dad drinking on the other side. We would have a bottle of coke. Proper glass bottles and hopefully get on the pool table. In fact even when I and my brother stayed at my nans in the holidays this is what happened with my Gramp. Him drinking at the pub whilst we eat crisps and drink coke.
Then followed by a Sunday roast. Actually our Sunday roast was always on a Monday due to my mum working. But yeah for most people, even myself now it’s a roast for Sunday. When I live with one of my girlfriend years ago Sundays followed this pattern. She would cook a Sunday Roast then we would relax in front of the TV.
So that’s Sunday, relaxing ready for a week of work ahead and not really doing anything. It’s funny how to days, both on the weekend can feel different. To have some kind of idea in my head of what those days should be like.
It’s now half seven on a Saturday evening and I haven’t tidied nothing up as planned. But I’ve done some washing. I have washing up in the sink. I’ve done some work on my novel and written a few blog posts. I’ve been for a nice long walk and had a pint with friends. Maybe this Saturday hasn’t been too bad overall and there is always tomorrow morning before the Sunday roast.
Ok it’s been a little while since I’ve posted. Life has been a little busy recently. There is a couple of blogs I’m working on to do with music but it’s taking some time. I’ve also been busy with starting another novel. NaNoWrimo is running their April writing camp and I’ve set myself a goal of 20000 words for the month. (Currently on 10200)
It’s another great day. The sun is shining, the day is warm with the promise of a hot week to come. I’ve spent a couple of hours in the café writing and now I fancy a walk. I’m thinking maybe half an hour to an hour. It actually takes me about two hours but it’s good. I have my music playing, I’m exploring the countryside and I’m musing on things. I start with thinking about my novel. Ideas for scenes, where my main character is heading. In amongst this my mind starts wondering to other topics and it’s while I’m out walking that I realise something. At this moment I am happy. I feel content. Sure not everything in my life is perfect but things are ok at the moment. I still want out of the job I’m in but I’ve come to terms with the job and don’t get as stressed or depressed about it as I was a few months ago. My love life is also still up in the air but I’ll keep working on it and whichever eay things with this girl goes I know I can get on with my life.
As I’m taking in the sounds and the smell of the things around me and thinking where the hell am I and will I ever find my way back home I think of where I am. I can see for miles across the quarry I’m currently making myself around thinking on just how far I seemed to have walked and remembering previous times I’ve been out for walks. A lot of those walks have evolved soul searching and a lot of brooding. Many times I feel pangs of regrets that I’ve got older as I remember my past and think on regrets and how my situations have changed over the years from times when I was happy to now. About things that I’ve missed out on.
This doesn’t happen this time. I realise that I’ve had a good life. Not what some people might think is fantastic. I haven’t travelled far and wide. I haven’t been off on great adventures or spent time pursuing some extreme sport or activity. But I’ve been to uni. I’ve been a Ghost Hunter. I’ve had some good relationships with good friends over the years even if some of those friendship are now sadly gone or changed into something less than what they were.
You see I spend a lot of time reflecting on my past. Remembering times when I felt happy. With pain in my heart I also want to go back and have thing how they were before. But recently I read some words of Russel T Davis the man who brought Doctor Who back to our scenes thirteen years ago. About how he is often asked if he would go back to writing for Doctor Who and his answer is no. Not because he didn’t enjoy it but because he realises that he has moved forward and looks towards the future.
I’ve spent so long thinking how I loved it when I was hanging out with my best friend or how I wish I was still in uni that sometimes I make myself feel as if my life is over and the best years are behind me. And I’ve always been afraid of getting older. I want to be young again, fresh faced and full fringed. And these are the kind of thoughts has made me get stuck in a rut instead of thinking what’s next. And I have always worried about change. Ever since I was a teenager I realised that change always come. There is that saying where people talk of children wanting to grow up to fast. That never happened to be. I loved my childhood and I didn’t want it to end. I tried to cling on to it for dear life. I wasn’t worried about wanting to be old enough to drive or drink. Because it meant I also had to work. I had to grow up and be mature. I wanted to carry on playing in the woods, building camps and enjoying long sunny holidays with nothing much to do but hang out with my friends. I wanted to run forever and feel the wind beneath my feet.
I ended up working and I loved the job but it came to an end. I started another job, not great but I met a woman who would become one of my best friends and together we got into ghost hunting and I felt true happiness for the first time and the fear things would change and ultimately in a self-prophecy kind of way it did. But after a year I pulled myself together. Before we fell out my friend had suggested I go back to college at the time we fell out I was already looking at uni. And I loved uni. I enjoyed the lessons, I like writing and doing the research and even more I enjoyed hanging out with fellow students in the SU bar.
And this time I learnt to saviour every moment because I knew this time there was a time limit of this situation. Uni was for three years and nothing I could do could change that so instead of worrying about it I just took every moment for what it was worth.
Things change but if we concentrate on trying to make your life better then things will come along. I’ve forgotten to think about my future. I’ve forgotten to live in the present. This moment right here and right now where I feel content and happy isn’t the time to mope about the lost past. I have to start trying to find and enjoy the good times again. No they won’t be the same as before. It might involve different people, different lifestyle but it could be fun. It could be good. I still have plenty of life left and its there for enjoying. I have ideas buzzing around in my head and I want to get back home to get writing. Instead nearing the end of my walk and on the last stretch home I get picked up in a car by two men and taken for a drink (its ok I know them, a lucky coincidence being there at that moment. It leads to an invitation to a party later in the month. Things are hopefully coming to me again. If anything my past has taught me that these things usually come around.